


A Novel Idea

by Alliswell



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, In Panem, Marriage of Convenience, Never reaped, Strangers to Lovers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-03
Updated: 2018-06-03
Packaged: 2019-05-16 08:43:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,567
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14808059
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alliswell/pseuds/Alliswell
Summary: Based on the Everlark Fic Exchange challenge on tumblr.Prompt 93:Peeta and Katniss having never spoken graduate at 18 without getting reaped and must find work or a spouse to support them or else report to the mines. This drives one to devise a way of working as partners to start a business drawing on each other's strengths to become a team. They pretend to marry to get Peeta housing and to keep men away from Katniss. Will they work as business partners? Or screw it up? Or work through their problems and feelings to become more? [submitted by @567inpanem]





	A Novel Idea

**Author's Note:**

> All rights to the THG belong to Suzanne Collins 
> 
> Thanks to 567inpanem@tumblr.com for a wonderful prompt. 
> 
> Thank you everlarkficexchange for once again bringing this Everlark feast to the fandom.
> 
> This piece is hasn’t been betaed and was very quickly edited, so excuse the mistakes you encounter.

Effie Trinket, a very drunk Haymitch Abernathy, Mayor Undersee and a procession of officials go inside the Justice Building right after 16 year old merchant Sandy Jennings, and 13 year old Cole Hill from the Seam, are officially proclaimed District Twelve’s newly condemned tributes.

I’m both relieved and horrified. Two families are already making funeral arrangements, meanwhile, I seek my sister, Primrose, in the 14 years olds’ pen, knowing full well this was my last chance ever to protect her from the reaping. She’s on her own now for the next 4 years.

“Prim, Let’s go!”

I call her in my best authoritative voice, let’s it brake showing how troubled I truly am; but my sister just glares at me.

She’s trying to console some weeping merchant girl I don’t recognize.

“We have to bring Anna to her auntie first.” Prim says in a voice way too sweet to be so stubborn.

My sister’s now an inch taller than me and, but in my eyes she’s still my little duck, so after a moment of just staring at each other, she gets her way.

We escort the crying girl to the roped off area where the adults wait for the safe kids to come back to them. I scowl. That’s going to be me next year, while Prim takes her place with the 15 year olds.

I’m rendered mute when I realize Anna’s auntie is actually my mother’s sister. Neither of us acknowledge the other. We are complete strangers that share the same blood.

That’s when I learn that Anna is Sandy’s little sister. They’re related to my aunt by marriage, and their folks are deceased somehow, so now they live with my mother’s sibling.

I can’t help myself from tossing the woman a withering glare. She wasn’t this welcoming when we were starving to death.

“Thank you, Prim.” Anna says wiping her nose on the back of her hand.

“It’s alright. I’ll see you at school in two days, okay?”

The other girl nods and gives my sister a watery smile that don’t reach her eyes.

We walk away, finally. I try not to dwell on the fact that my mother’s own sister would act like she didn’t know who we were, or worse, that she was okay with letting us die, just because of some stupid social divide. The alternative is to fall into a pit of self loathing, anger and resentment. That woman doesn’t deserve I spend one more minute of my time thinking of her.

At least my mother’s older brother, the apothecary, asks after her health— as if they were acquaintances— every time we trade herbs and other ingredients with each other.

But he too, sat back without moving a muscle to help us when we needed it. Suddenly, I feel rejected. I try my best not to care, but today the sting is just to sharp. I can’t shake sense of entitlement, now that I’m 18 and free of the reaping, I should be first in line to work as the apothecary’s apprentice, since he has no children of his own, and neither does his other sister. All I can do is hope he takes Prim on when she’s older, instead of finding someone else; my sister would be an ideal candidate: blonde hair, blue eyes, sweet disposition and a natural born healer. Everything I’m not.

I’m distractedly navigating the crowd, pulling Prim along just so we can start heading home, when I see the baker’s youngest son power walking in my direction, which centers my attention immediately.

I don’t like it.

I feel my cheeks heat up, because I have an unpaid debt to settle with him, and I think, for a crazy second, that he’s coming to collect on it before scoffing at myself for that ridiculous idea. 

There’s no way he’s coming for me looking so determined. I doubt he even remembers that day.

I try to shift out of his way, but he moves at the same time, I do it again and so does he. I stare up at him, and unlike every time our eyes met at school, this time they don’t flit away, but meet mine head on.

We’re less than a foot away when he starts talking in a rapid shoot, without breathing, blinking or even making any eye contact.

“Hi-Katniss! Congratulations-on-graduating-the-reaping-you-may-not-know-me-but-my-name’s-Peeta-Mellark-and-we-were-in-the-same-year-in-school-a-group-of-our-class-mates-are-having-party-at-the-meadow-after-mandatory-viewing-in-case-you'd-like-to-join-us-thank-you-so-much-for-your-time-see-you-around! Bye.”

His very blue eyes fix on mine for a solid 3 seconds, he finally takes a breath, frowning a little. His face start to turn pink, but then nods at me, turns around and practically runs in the opposite direction of the bakery.

I would find his odd behavior funny, if my heart wasn’t racing a few hundred miles a second. To say that I’m startle would be an understatement, but I force myself to move. Peacekeepers will descend on the stragglers soon, so is better to clear out as soon as possible and we still need to find our mother.

I look at Prim sideways, making sure she’s still next to me. She’s staring at me with this amused grin on her face and dancing eyes full of mirth, I don’t like one bit.

“So, that Peeta Mellark, huh?” She's still grinning. “We better get going, Katniss. You don’t wanna be late for the party.” She says gleefully.

“Don’t be silly, Prim. I’m not going to that silly party. Let’s get mother.”

“Why?” She practically whines stepping in front of me and walking backwards.

”Because we need to get supper ready for this evening and want to get out of this square already.”

”No...” Prim puffs out, rolling her eyes. “I meant why aren’t you going to the party?”

I’m getting aggravated and a little worried she’s going to trip and get trampled. “Because I don’t do parties! Now turn around and help me find Mother.”

“Fine. But I think you should go! There are only so few reasons to celebrate, and times when the Peacekeepers will turn a blind eye for us to do it. Don’t let it pass you by, Katniss.”

It’s true. In our district, the occasion for parties is not common place. It doesn’t mean I want to mingle with a bunch of people I’ve barely spoken to all this years, but Prim is giving me this earnest look, her eyes big and shiny with expectation. 

“I’ll think about it.” I respond curtly.

Prim smiles so brightly, you’d think I just did her the biggest favor ever. 

“Thank you! That’s all I ask!” 

I want to correct her, pointing out that really what she’s asking is that I actually show up to this thing, not to merely entertain the thought of going, but I bite my tongue because she does look genuinely happy about it. I let it be for now.

We finally find mother and go home. But again, Primrose gets her way. After we watch the recap of the reaping from all over Panem, she fixes my hair, makes me wear a set of trousers I recently barter for with the seamstress. The pants actually fit me properly, unlike the ragged ones that used to belong to my father and had been altering to fit me ever since I was 12. She presses one of her own pretty blouses on my hands, and orders me to wear it. 

Her clothes are decidedly nicer and less threadbare than mine, but she’s never had to hunt on her clothes, and since she’s grown so much taller and curvier than me at her age, I make the effort to keep her wardrobe relatively stocked. I don’t mind, instead I’m very proud I can indulge her from time to time.

Once she finds my appearance acceptable, Prim sends me on my way.

It’s silly and I scoff at the idea, but at the same time, there’s an expectant knot in my stomach, curiosity getting the best of me, as my feet bring me closer to the meadow and a party I’m not sure why I’m suddenly excited to attend.

 

* * *

 

Peeta Mellark was right; all of our classmates came to the meadow this evening, even Madge Undersee, who’s the only person I considered a friend at school, so naturally, I plop on a tree stomp next to her and simply watch people dance, drink white liquor and mingle.

“Congratulations on aging out.” Madge offers quietly.

I look at her startled for a moment. The proper saying is: ‘ _congratulations on graduation!’_ , but she’s just said something that my former hunting partner, Gale Hawthorne, would’ve said out in the woods when we used to hunt together.

It’s innocuously seditious, and very seldom used.

“You too!” I answer, trying not to call attention to her comment. Somehow I doubt it was a slip up on her part, she’s not a careless person. “Your family must be relieved.” I say smiling. 

She nods and we’re quiet for a while.

Then, almost offhandedly she says, “Now I have to find a husband. One can’t become mayor unwed.”

I don’t know what to say to that. I really don’t have many prospects for my life after the reaping, but at least I can have no prospects without being forced to marry.

Delly Cartwright from our class, who just lost a few pounds and turned into a buxom, curvy thing overnight comes and sits next to us. She’s also the friendliest, smiliest person I know. She greets us warmly, as if we’ve been best friends for years when in reality this is probably the very first time we sit less than a foot away from each other outside of a classroom.

“Hi Katniss! Madge! Happy graduation gals!”

We both say hello and Delly starts having the most animated monologue in history while Madge and I nod, smile or even laugh during appropriate cues.

Who would’ve thought I’d actually enjoy listening to Delly Cartwright once she started talking?

Peeta shows up at some point. He smiles at me from afar, but that’s all the interaction we have. To be honest, I’m more than alright with that arrangement, I’m not sure how to say something to the one person that has ever helped me, specially not today when I’ve been resenting my mother’s family so hard. 

Madge, Delly and I sit on our stumps closest to an old magnolia tree for almost the whole evening. The issue of life after school and the reapings inevitably comes up.

“Have you decided if you’re going to be a healer or a miner?” Chirps Delly looking at me with interest.

“Oh… I haven’t thought about it, really. I’m not very good with sick people, though, I don’t like being underground either.” Just thinking about the mines makes me  anxious. 

“Well, I’m glad that at least you have options. Having your future written down from birth is not all that great.” She grouses.

“Running the shoe shop is important work.” Says Madge wisely, patting Delly’s knee. 

“Well, sure. The district has grown enough that father said he’d take both me and Danny as paid apprentices. It sure made mother happier, knowing both her children will stay home for a while, instead of having to worry about me getting a husband with a trade.”

We all stay silent for a moment.

Then Delly sighs. “I guess I shouldn’t be so gloomy. I could be in a worse position, like poor Peeta.” She says shaking her head sadly.

My knee-jerk reaction surprises me when I squeak without thinking.

“Peeta Mellark? Why? What’s wrong with him?”

My eyes dart to the spot I last saw him, scanning all the blonde heads until I locate him all the way down where the liquor is being passed from hand to hand. It should unnerve me how easily I picked his head out from the pool of merchant boys in the party.

I watch him take the bottle, tip it back and cough-spit the gulp he just tried to swallow. In the back of my mind, I’m relieved he’s not a drinker for some reason.

But then his eyes roam my way, and we stare at one another for a moment, before our gazes flit away at the same time.

Delly is staring at me while Madge looks unbothered by my outburst, as if it was the most normal thing in the world.

Thankfully, Madge picks up the conversation where I left it.

“Surely the bakery can support all 3  siblings. If the shoe shop is successful enough to support your whole family, it makes sense the bakery would generate enough coins for all the Mellarks.”

Delly shakes her head sadly.

“The bakery charter says they can only have four adults over 18 living in the house. The most paid employees they’re allowed to have is five. If you count the baker and his wife and the oldest brother, you already have three spots. But then Graham, the middle brother, married his school sweetheart last winter taking Peeta’s slot.”

“Are those Capitol imposed regulations?” Madge asks frowning.

Delly nods. “Every trade has different stipulations. Peeta told me all about their charter not a month ago. He’s worried because he may have to go to the mines, and you know what that means.”

Delly looks at us with baleful blue eyes.

I scowl.

“I mean no offense, Katniss, but you know how some families can be when one of their members has to work in the mines, living in the Seam.”

There’s no malice in Delly’s comment, just sadness, but I still want to be angry. She’s not mistaken. Merchant families will pretend their relative working in the mines or living in the Seam, doesn’t exist. My mother is living proof of that. And the baker’s wife is a witch with a fast temper and a deep dislike of Seam brats as she calls us in her very vocal rages. I can’t even begin to imagine how awful she’d be to Peeta if he were to become a miner.

I wrestle my mind to stay in the present, and not wander off to that awful day that marked my deep debt with Peeta Mellark, the boy with the bread, as I often call him in my head. It won’t do to visit that gut wrenching memory. Perhaps the only honest to heave good deed I’ve seen my whole life.

We are so immersed in our hushed conversation, we completely miss the moment Peeta manages to take a big gulp of white liquor and keep it down, looking our way with determination. He takes a deep breath says something to the group he’s with.

He walks toward us with confident, sure steps until I look up and he falters minutely, that is. His blue eyes so deep even in the flickering light of the fire burning in the middle of the party lose that confident glint forcing him to look away.

Peeta turns to the left and marches woodenly to nowhere in particular. I can’t expl why, but I feel a pang of disappointment in my stomach, but the feeling doesn’t even have to time to expand, because the boy with the bread he turns around again, screws his face on with set resolution and takes the last few steps toward our group.

He takes a deep breath, “Ladies. How are you enjoying your night so far? Can I bring either of you anything to drink”

“That is so _nice_ of you, Peeta. Katniss looks thirsty.” Deadpans Madge.

“But wait!” Delly cries, “Peeta, your feet must be killing you after putting this shindig together, and going around inviting everyone!”

Huh, this party was his idea, then. I guess he must be hoping to get a last nice time with his merchant friends, before he becomes an outcast in town. It doesn’t matter he’s always been a very popular boy, always surrounded by people, once he moves to the Seam, he’ll lose all this. 

“You do look tired, Peeta.” agrees Madge. “How about I go get the drinks, and you sit a spell to rest?”

“What a great idea, Madge! I’ll help!” Says Delly enthusiastically.

The two of them pull Peeta into the log Madge just vacated then they hurry along to get refreshments area.

I’m still trying to figure out what just happened.

Peeta is ten shades of scarlet, his eyes are popping out comically and his mouth is reminiscent of a fish out of water.

“I didn’t know you organized the get together.” I say unconscious of what I’m doing.

Seems my mouth and brain are running of their own volition tonight.

“Oh. Yeah.” Peeta says coming back to some semblance of composure.

“I just thought that aging out of the reaping was an accomplishment worth celebrating. For some, it’s the end of an era.”

“The end of an era?” I repeat curiously.

“What I mean is, the Games will always be there, hanging over our heads no matter our age. Someone we care about is always at risk unless you’re Haymitch Abernathy, or Goat man, or the school janitor, Ms. Blacksburg, or anyone who has no family alive anymore. But those people aside, the threat is constant. Now, for some, the best years of their life are behind them since school let out.”

I stare at him and mutter sarcastically, “Right. Those carefree days are now over.”

“Well, yeah!” He answers honestly. “Some people’s only worry is reaping day, if they don’t get picked, then they go another year just working or studying or doing what they do, until the next reaping day. But then they age out, and now they have to work to support themselves, or find a spouse, which means starting a family, and then the worrying about the reaping starts all over but this time is worse, because now it’s their children facing it and there’s not one damned thing they can do about it, it’s like watching with your hands and feet tied up and your mouth gagged.

“But, you’re right. That’s not always the case. Maybe aging out means the best years are ahead. They may have had a horrible childhood, and now they have some modicum of control over what they’ll do with their lives. Even if the choice is to go work at the mines. Its their life now.”

I stare at him for a moment, feeling like a terrible human being. Here I am, complaining about having to choose between helping my mother in her small healing business, or just going down into the mines, which would both be acceptable choices for me, and really wouldn’t altered my way of life one bit— except for cutting into my hunting time— but he’s just thinking about how others see the day according to their experiences up until now.

I look into his eyes and ask him, “Which one are you?”

“Neither. Both.” He shrugs and looks away, into the darkness behind the fence.

He speaks quietly next.

“I have two weeks to fill my paperwork at the Justice Building for placement. I have to choose between marrying someone for an apprenticeship, which by the way is very slim pickings at the moment; The choices are: Take an art teaching position at the Lower Level School that’s available, but here’s the catch! The Capitol won’t approve an unwed person for the post.” He makes a face.

“I could get an extension and start a second bakery, but I’d have to share it with my brother Bran, and if he gets married, I’d lose the shop to him and his family because he’s older than me and everything goe to him automatically; so I’d be back to my original dilemma. And last, but not least, I could always sign up for the mines, which means being completely cut off from everyone I know, and to be honest, I only know of one person that was brave enough to pull that stunt.”

He looks at me appreciatively, but I know is not because of me, per say. He’s talking about my mother, which makes me feel a little ashamed of myself, because I’ve never thought of her as brave. On the contrary, all I can see in my mother is her is defeat, sadness and abandonment. But thanks to his simple reference, my mind feels as if I’ve discovered something new about my mother. Something worthwhile and admirable.

I’ve only spoken to Peeta Mellark five minutes, and already I can tell he has the ability to make me see things in a different perspective.

I’m not sure if I’m alright with that or not.

He smiles shyly then, blushing a little. “There’s one pro to becoming a miner and moving to the Seam, though.”

I give him a unconvinced glance, “What could that be? More soot to clean at your place?” I ask sarcastically.

He chuckles, “Hardly.” He looks at me still smiling. “We could be friends.”

Someone is running around half naked. A Merchant boy I don’t know.

Peeta sighs.

“Excuse me a minute. I think Tyler is drunk.”

He stands up and goes after Tyler, whoever that is.

I’m left here blinking. I’m not sure if his last comment was meant as in ‘You’re okay, we could be friends’ or if being friends with me specifically is what he considers a pro, to move to the Seam.

I wish I knew how to ask him to clarify.

 

To Be Continued...


End file.
